To Break a Legacy
by PikaCheeka
Summary: Draco finally tries to make his way out into the world, however, Lupin seemes desperate to have him be his assistant as well as other people. Can Draco even break away from his father's legacy of evil and live his own life? Or will pain and grief tie him


Summary: This is a possible third to the 'It Bars the Gates of Death' saga. But you don't really have to read the other two first; it's a semi-stand-alone....Draco finally tries to make his way out into the world. However, he passes the exams above the rest and is offered many jobs, one being Lupin's assistant in teaching. Can he break away from his father's legacy and live his own life? Or will pain and grief tie him down forever?

There are a few lines here from the 'Everclear' song 'Father of Mine'

I know Cho is a year older, but for my sake...Pretend she's Draco's age here.

PG13 for powerful angst, minor language, blood, and possible death.

An odd note~~~~~~~~~~ This is one of my long-term fics, meaning it took me several weeks to finish. On the night I finished this, I found this never before seen shirt on my bed. On it are the words 'You Are Not Forgotten', which is, indeed, the motto of this fic. Odd, isn't it?

Dedications: Dedicated to Inspiring Author, for giving me the idea of Draco finally growing up. And D.M.P., for listening to me rant on and on about this plot endlessly over the phone, email, IM, and in person. One more. Mina. I really appreciate her writing her fic "Father of Mine", which just so happens to be one of my favorite Harry Potter fics, so this is for you, you guys! 

To Break a Legacy

By PikaCheeka 

Prologue

A slight breeze swept through the cemetery. The cemetery full of dead ancestors and ones the family had killed over the hundreds of years the house had stood. The cemetery behind the Malfoy Manor.

The young man was kneeling beside the grave of his father, his dagger in his hands. His eyes appeared opaque in the dying light and it was impossible to tell his expression.

Suddenly he slashed out with the blade, cutting a deep scar in the stone. The words that read: You are not Forgotten...were crossed out, crossed out by a scar.

He stood up abruptly, bringing his arm up to his face to shield his eyes from the sun. He sighed heavily and turned away, sheathing his knife. 

His father had to be forgotten.

Seeing as he had forgotten his son.

Chapter 1~ Draco

I shifted my bag in my lap and threw it onto the floor. It made a loud thunk and the whole class turned to look at me. McGonagall glared at me. "I will be passing back your final exams now. These are the exams that are every class combined. They will be given to you while a copy shall be sent out to Ministry of Magic. They will suggest jobs for you as they shall..."

I scowled, knowing I had failed. I hated how the teachers acted like nothing had happened. Only two weeks ago, Voldemort had arrived at the school, killing Dumbledore and Harry, leaving me to kill him. I had succeeded, but what did it matter now? I had avenged my father and I had nothing to look forward to in my life. Now I was alone with my grief and pain.

"Pansy Parkinson..." she almost ran forward and snatched it from the teacher's hands with a squeal of delight, "I got a two and eighty!!!!"

"That is not all well, Miss. Parkinson, seeing as the highest was four-hundred, with a bonus of twenty..."

She slid back over to her seat and hid her face on her desk, as if it had never happened. That what was everybody was doing these days, pretending nothing ever happened. The year had been lengthened by a week to get the exams in, and nobody seemed to care. I slid lower into me seat as she rattled off names, not wanting to hear mine. I didn't want to know that I had failed, I knew I had.

"Class dismissed..." she sighed, throwing a pile of papers down on her desk. 

"What?" I jerked upright. I figured I had fallen asleep and hadn't heard my name, but then why hadn't I woken up? Was I getting lost in daydreams? How demented could that be? I groaned and picked up my bad. Maybe my grade was so bad she didn't want to tell me right away. That must be it. I stood up and smoothed out my cape, stalling for time. I wanted to wait till the rest of the class left before asking for my grade. It left slowly; I leaned against my desk, waiting. 

"Draco?" McGonagall asked suddenly.

"Yea, I know I failed..." I trudged up to her desk. She didn't say anything, only pulled out my test. She looked at it for a minute, then threw on the desk in front of me. 

I stared at it for a long time. I finally looked up at her. "Four-hundred-twenty eight?"

She smiled and nodded. "The absolute highest. Nobody else scored that high." Then her smile vanished. She put her arm around my shoulders. 

"Now I know you want to live up to your father's reputation, but is cheating on the final exam really worth it?"

"What?" I gasped, pulling away. "I didn't cheat!"

"Draco, your grade exceeds even Hermione's..." she sighed. "You will have to take them again. We will put extra charms on your quill and parchment, and a teacher will be watching your every move." Then she turned and walked out.

I snatched up the paper off the desk, wondering what I had done to get such a grade. There wasn't a single thing wrong. It was the bonus essay. The essay that you had to explain the dark arts in. That's where I got all the extra points. It seemed to me that I had given the Ministry valuable information about the way Voldemort works. But what did that matter know that he was dead? And where did I get that info? My father.

Without thinking, I gripped the paper and ripped it, watching tiny fibers flutter to the floor. It was because of my father that I was thought a cheater. I was a failure no matter what I did.

I turned on my heel, swung my bag over my shoulder, and headed off to the Slytherin Common Room.

Chapter 2~Narcissa

The house was cold and empty, as it has been for ages now, it seems. Draco was at school, and Lucius was dead. There was no longer a way past it. Before, I could pretend that he was on a business trip or on a long Death Eater killing spree, but now I have to admit to myself that it was Voldemort who went on the killing spree. It was Voldemort who had turned against his own followers and killed Lucius. Or was it that Lucius had gone against Voldemort? What had been told me was unstable, and the ministry would not tell me much, even though it involved my husband dying and my son having an illegal curse put on him.

I trudged down the hall listlessly, the hall of ancestors. This house has been standing for hundreds of years. Over time, it had become more of a castle then anything; the only thing that always remains is this hall. This hall has pictures, painting, of every Malfoy that has ever existed, even the ones who had died at birth. Draco had almost gone up like that. Barely two pounds at birth. I have noticed that every Malfoy ever born has been male, enabling the name to live forever. And they all look somewhat similar. For a long time, I had been unable to figure out what it was. But now I know, it is the eyes. They all have the same cold, shifty, unreadable, steely pits.

All but Lucius. There are always a few oddballs in families; he was one of them. His eyes are the same, but they have a strange aurora of sadness around them. I can not quite explain it, but it is un-nerving. 

Without thinking, I stopped in front of his picture and ran my hand carefully down it. Those eyes seemed to pull me in all over again. I shuddered and dropped my head, not wanting to look into them anymore. For looking into them would make me want him to be alive again. Wanting is never enough.

I remembered how when I first met him. I was in my first year; he was in his fourth. I had wandered into the common room during a Saturday, bored out of my mind. I had seen the pale boy sitting in the chair; his chin propped up on his fist, which was against the arm of the chair. His eyes were so fixed on the window that he didn't even notice I had entered the room.

"What are you doing?" I had said.

"Thinking." He said without a move at all.

"About?"

"Why man do not fly."

"Why men, you mean?" I asked, trying to be smart.

"Why _man_. As in the race." Then he had gone right back to ignoring me as before. Two hours later, I checked on him again, and he was still there, in the same position.

Another time I had found him flat out on his back on the floor. This was in his sixth year. I thought he was dead, for his eyes were closed and he looked paler then ever. 

"Are you dead?" I had asked carelessly.

"No." He had said without opening his eyes.

"What are you doing then?"

"I'm wondering what it is like to die. Is there a heaven? I believe so, but my father does not. Then is there a hell? What's all this rubbish about reincarnation?" Then he fell silent again.

I had only asked him what he was thinking three times. It was too frightening the last time. It was when Draco was only four weeks old, and I had found him in his chair, as usual.

"What's going on now?" I had asked. Something about his deep thought intrigued me.

"Is Draco happy?"

"He's not yet a month. Ask him when he's older."

"When I was born." He had said. "I was not happy. I never was."

That was what had freaked me out. That was why I stopped questioning him.

After a minute, I had jerked back to reality. His eyes were still as captivating as ever. With a sudden rush of anger at myself for letting me think about him that long, I headed off to Draco's room.

It was possibly the largest room in the house, with green walls, silver ceiling, and black floor. The walls were coated in painting and drawings of dragons and ghosts, griffins and demons, things from his mind and things from other minds. The ones from his own were always the darkest and the most mystical. I didn't often understand them, but never asked.

I turned away, realizing just how much alike Draco and Lucius were. Like father, like son. I was never like them. Truth to tell, I was never sure I really loved either of them.

That was the thought.

The one that drove me to do it.

Chapter 3

"I do not believe he cheated." Snape said defiantly. "How could he? We used every charm there was to prevent that."

"Yes..." Professor Flitwick cut in. "But I do not think that Dumbledore would trust him. Look at his past grades, he was average. And all of a sudden he beats Granger? It does not seem possible."

"It is possible, not probable..." McGonagall sighed. "I just can't imagine him cheating. He was always a brat, but not to that extent. He just hated people."

"Well, if we're not careful he'll start to hate himself." Snape stood up abruptly. "And end up dead." He scowled and swept from the room.

Lupin, who was in the back, sat up straighter. "May I see his exam?"

McGonagall stood up and nodded. Lupin had re-applied for the job of the D.A.T.D.A. teacher at the beginning of Draco's seventh year, and was planning to stay. There was a small chance that he and Snape would alternate classes for a year at a time, letting Snape be satisfied for once and letting Lupin get a taste of other classes.

"Hermione, what did you get again?" Ron asked, starring at his plate. He still wasn't in the mood to eat, not after his best friend died.

"O, 424...." she sighed. "I'm not the top student anymore..."

"You're not?" Ron glanced up. "Then who is?"

"O, the teachers say that's confidential..." Neville said quickly, shoveling potatoes into his mouth as fast as he could. "I actually have to go get mine when I'm done...."

"Doesn't look like that will take long..." Ron slammed his head back down on the table.

"You know what?" Hermione asked timidly after a moment. "I bet it was Cho. She's been studying really hard. She said she was studying for Cedric and herself, whatever that means."

"Even if I studied for Harry, I would still probably fail. We both never studied." Ron mumbled.

"You failed???" Neville gasped. He had been hanging around with Ron and Hermione every second of the last week.

"No, But I didn't do super either. I got average..."

"Who didn't?" Seamus shouted form across the table.

Someone from behind Ron cleared his throat loudly. Ron jumped about a foot and whirled around. "What? What?"

Draco stood behind him, holding his books although there were no classes after lunch. His eyes obtained that unusual glassy look they had had for about five weeks now. It was impossible to tell his expression, seeing as he almost never smiled anymore and his face always had a hollow look.

"What did you get?" Hermione said quickly, wanting to avoid a fight. Ron and Draco had been on edge with each other ever since Harry's death. Ron thinking it was Draco's fault and Draco being neutral. 

"Why?" he drawled, shifting his books into the other arm.

"I was just wondering." She sighed and stood up.

"Well..." he trailed off. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" he shot a look at Ron, who was ignoring him again.

"O, for heavens sake, who cares if he hears?" Hermione cried as Neville leaned across the table to get the loaf of bread in front of Ron.

"I care. But if you must know, it was a four-hundred and twenty-eight..."

"Told you Draco's a filthy liar!" Ron said loudly.

Draco scowled and turned away.

"Good job Ron. Why can't you just be nice to him? It wasn't his fault Harry passed away."

"Passed away? He was killed!" Ron shouted, then he stood up and bolted toward the door.

"Life is hell, isn't it?" Draco said quietly, watching Ron's retreating back before heading off in the opposite direction.

Hermione sighed and sat down again. She hated it when they fought, and it had been constant lately. She was upset about harry as well as Ron, but she was managing to hold it in and take it out in her journals. Ron, who didn't have one, let it all out on Draco, who took it in and kept it, turning it into his own pain.

Lupin stared at the paper in his hand for a long time. There was a thin line down the center where it had been ripped and magiked back together. Obviously Draco had gone into a fury, why would he get that mad if he wasn't innocent? He sighed and placed it on his desk. There was no possible way he could have cheated, he was obviously trying. Most likely he had just never really tried on school before so nobody really knew just how smart he was.

Lupin yawned and stood up, slightly aggravated with himself. His best friend's son was dead and here he was helping his nemesis. And he didn't know why. Something about the pale boy reminded him of himself.

"McGonagall, this came in the owl post today, You may want to read it. It's addressed to the Headmistress, that would be you." Binns said slowly, as he often spoke.

McGonagall sighed and took it. She was wondering what Lupin was doing with Draco's exam. What could he possibly get out of the kid being innocent? Nothing. She ripped open the envelope, not bothering to look at who it was from.

Dear Headmistress,

On the thirtieth of June of this year, Narcissa Malfoy passed away in her manor. It is said that she poisoned herself after weeks of mourning for her dead husband. Due to this accident, Draco no longer has parents and the house, money and everything within is now his...However, he is a bit young to be living alone already, so the seven house elves currently working there shall stay. He may choose a guardian if he wishes. I know his parents would not mind, Thank You...

Macnair

"I can't read that..." McGonagall said plainly. She was not feeling herself, as was obvious. Binns picked it up and cleared his throat. "It says that Draco's mother killed herself and everything is now his. He is allowed to choose a guardian if he wishes..."

McGonagall moaned and collapsed into the chair. "This is the last thing we need right now. The last thing..." she shook her head sadly.

Chapter 4~Draco

Classes were over for the day, and I had the rest of the time to do nothing. I had been planning on going off to the teacher's room and try to tell them again that I had not cheated, but the fact that they would believe me was so slim I didn't bother.

I slunk down into the common room and sat by the window. It was raining torrents of water. You could barely see outside. I sighed and propped my chin in my fist. 

I suddenly jumped back, wringing my hands.

"What is wrong with you?" a fourth year named Malcolm cried angrily as I stepped on his foot.

I didn't answer. I could never look in a window again, much less a mirror. As the days went on, I looked more and more like my father.

I was doomed to follow him. To become him.

There was nothing I could do.

Ten minutes later, I stood outside getting soaked through by the rain. Only two weeks ago, I would not have minded becoming my father. That was two weeks ago.

Now the anger of his death was setting in.

He had died for me. And I didn't want him too. Back when he did, I was grateful of what happened. Now I wasn't. I hated him. He had thrown his life down for me, a worthless son.

I know I am being selfish, but I can't help it. Everyone always said that soon after somebody loved dies, you grow angry with them. I could never believe it until now, as I experience it.

I slid down the wall and landed on the sodden ground, soaking my robes and my pants. I didn't care. Maybe I would get sick and die out here and there wouldn't be anything else to worry about. There wouldn't be anything else to be angry with. And since nobody loved me, I would not hurt anyone.

I glared up at the sky, daring it to stop raining and get warm again.

"Draco Malfoy!" Snape shouted. I jumped up, scowling at him. 

"Well, it seems you're trying to kill yourself, falling asleep out here. Have you already heard?"

"Heard what?" I snapped.

"I guess not. Well, come along..." he sighed and turned away, already walking back to the school. I followed him, wondering if I had to retake the exam now.

His office was cold, and to my surprise, full of other teachers. He nodded toward an empty chair and I sat in it warily.

McGonagall muttered something and handed me a piece of paper.

I read it once, then twice, then thrice, unable to believe what I was reading. It slipped form my hands and I didn't even notice for a minute. "It's happening all over again..." I said faintly.

"Sorry..." Snape sighed without feeling very sorry at all. What did he know? Now both my parents were dead, and I was already living alone. In a week's time, I would return to my empty house and live in it for who knew how long? 

I stood up abruptly. To my surprise, I wasn't all that upset. I had never been attached to my mother. I turned and walked from the room, ignoring the stares the teachers were giving me.

They didn't care. I didn't care.

Nobody did. 

I re-entered the common room and purposely knocked over the black-haired Malcolm. He started swearing his ugly moth off everywhere but I ignored his ranting. I wanted to be alone. 

The dorm, to my relief, was empty, as it nearly always was. I sat on my bed, not even noticing that I was still soaked. I grabbed my trunk and ripped it open. Right on top was a picture taken last year of all three of us and a house elf. It was a stupid family tradition for me to be tormenting a house elf in every picture that was taken of us. Not that that mattered anymore.

In seven weeks, my family had been taken away from me.

I noticed my father first; he was, as usual, scowling. He always does. I remembered how he once told me that he had killed his own father. I basically had as well. I wondered how he had coped with it. He had never really talked about it. Maybe because he couldn't cope, and he had still hurt inside.

Right now I feel like I can never hurt again. He had been the one to hurt me by leaving me. It was his fault. And it was his fault that Mother had killed herself. If he had lived, she would have lived as well, and I wouldn't be alone. But then again, she obviously hadn't thought of me when she did that. Therefore, she probably didn't care about me.

But I couldn't let _him_ hurt me anymore. I suddenly tore the photo from the frame. I glared at it for a long time. Father scowling, mother smiling snidely, and me expressionless. I should have enjoyed them while I had the chance. But I never did. I was called cynical, pessimistic, ungrateful. 

Without thinking, I suddenly ripped my mother from the picture. Then I ripped my father. Rip them both right out of my life, seeing as they had left it on their own damned accord.

I smiled wryly and slipped the lone picture of myself back into the frame. 

Then I realized what I had done, and flung the picture with fury at the wall in front of me. There was a loud crash and a shattering of glass. I had broken the mirror.

I don't believe in seven years of bad luck. But I'll probably have it anyway.

Good that I broke it though, I wouldn't have to look into it anymore and see myself. Or see my father.

He had left me, and now I was going to leave him.

Chapter 5

"This is authentic." Lupin stood up, yawning. He had been up the whole night, checking Draco's exam for cheating with all kinds of spells, and he had found nothing. He was still slightly disturbed that he was helping this evil child instead of his best friend's son's friend, who seemed to need somebody right now more then anything. Ron. He had seemed taken away by grief and was letting it out at everyone. But then again, that was most likely better then keeping it in, as Draco was. And now his other parent was dead. He had no one to go to. No one to give the pain to. He was alone. As Lupin was much of his life.

Lupin picked up the exam and walked from his office, searching for McGonagall, who was taking up the job of Headmistress amazingly well. He found her in the study made for the Headmaster. She was sitting at her desk looking immensely bored. "Remus? What is it?" she asked blandly when he walked up.

"He didn't cheat..." he showed her the paper. "I used every spell I know and this is all the truth. He knew all of this without a bit of cheating."

"Remus..." she sighed. "I know you're concerned about the boy, we all are, him and Ron and Hermione, but do you think what you're doing is really worth it?"

Lupin tensed up. "Why wouldn't it?"

"You know how the Malfoys are. Unappreciative. He wouldn't care that you proved him right, he'd just shrug you off, then go live his life of luxury. With all his money, he doesn't even need a job."

"Yes, but with his knowledge, he could be an excellent Auror." Lupin said defiantly.

"What are you talking about?" McGonagall sighed and stood up. "Draco, an Auror?"

"He has the power and the knowledge. He just needs the practice."

"And where will he get that?"

Lupin paused, then let it all out in a rush. "I have senses something about the boy ever since I met him, something that we both have in common. I wish to find out just exactly what it is, and I believe that deep down he is a good kid."

"That's what everybody said about Lucius just because he was a genius. Then he went and killed somebody at age seventeen."

"Yes, but he was good too."

"What are you talking about Remus?"

"I knew him. He was a grade older then I. For some reason, I got along with him while James did not. Not as good as friends, but as close as possible. Seeing as we were in opposing houses, we couldn't be real friends. Voldemort forced him to kill that man who was his father. Yet not that long ago, he put his life down for his son." Remus sighed loudly and leaned against the desk, smoothing out his grayish brown hair that was badly needing a cut.

"What are you getting at?"

"I will teach him."

"You're kidding Remus." McGonagall said flatly, bewilderment clear in her hard eyes. "You're absolutely crazy. You know how that boy is. He's locked himself up inside of him."

"Was it said in the letter that he needed a guardian?"

"Remus..." she sounded exasperated. "You don't even have a house, do you?"

"No, I live here."

"Exactly. Forget it. Done deal. Goodbye..."

"No! Wait! He could be my assistant!!" Lupin cried, desperate for one last chance.

"A student teacher, you mean?" McGonagall turned to face him, a new glint in her eye. Remus smiled.

"Ron, what are you going to be?" Hermione asked suddenly. It was the end of Herbology, and for the heck of it, all the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were outside by the lake, enjoying the sun.

"Agh, I'll probably work for the ministry of Magic. I'm kind of doomed to work there. But I want a cool job..."

"Like what?" Hermione leaned forward, intrigued.

"I dunno yet. I have to look at the form again."

At that moment, Cho cut in. "I want to go professional with Quidditch. Play for my country."

"What is your country?" Ron asked, struggling to be polite.

"I'm not sure. My mother in Chinese, my father is Irish..." she grinned.

"So how are you going to play for your country?" Neville asked. Hermione smiled; surprised he had figured it out so fast.

Cho shrugged and grinned again. "Who wants to come with me?"

"I would, if I didn't have to work at the ministry..." Ron sighed.

Cho laughed, exactly what he had wanted her not to do.

At that moment, several Slytherins walked up. Pansy in the lead.

"Hey, what happened to the lead Slytherin?" Dean asked innocently, rolling his eyes.

"He's gone. We were going to ask you where he went..." Pansy simpered, a look of disgust on her face.

"How should we know?" Hermione was getting rather irritated with all the attention Draco had been getting lately. 

Chapter 6~Draco

Lupin's office was one of the strangest I had ever entered. It was almost dark, with a lone lantern off to the side. Along the walls were hundreds of photos, posters, drawings, and figurines of various creatures. Dragons, unicorns, kappas, pixies, grindylows, hurrocks, and hundreds of other things I couldn't even place a name on. I hated it. It reminded me of my room.

Lupin was sitting at his desk, looking tired as usual. His hair was a complete mess. I wondered briefly if he ever used gel. My father did, I never bothered, seeing as mine was so odd I didn't need it.

"Hello Draco." He said calmly, reaching for a plaster figure of a small dragon. I leaned away. I hated it when people tried to be nice to me. All the teachers have gotten it into their minds to give me 'counciling' ever since I had killed Voldemort.

After a minute of silence, he cocked his head at me but said nothing. I scowled, uncomfortable at the fact that he was a werewolf, wondering if he was out to get me. "Hi..." I finally mumbled.

He smiled slightly, as if he had accomplished something wonderful. "Well. I took a good look at your exam. And I realized that you have not cheated at all."

"At least somebody believes me..." I sighed, unable to help myself.

"And I have realized your great intelligence."

"At least somebody does..." I said again, a hint of smugness in my voice. I guess he realized it, because his next remark was sarcastic. "I see. So, you, unlike most teenagers, believe in yourself?"

He had caught me by surprise; I had not expected him to say that. "Well..." I started to say, but he cut me off.

"I understand, you know you're smart, but you don't really care. You're just angry about everything, correct?"

I nodded dumbly. Right now I hated him more then anyone, he knew what I was thinking. Damn psychic werewolves.

"What do you want for a job, exactly?"

I shrugged helplessly, the wide shoulders of my jacket reaching my ears. I wanted to hide in it.

"Well..." he trailed off and looked at the floor. "I am looking for an assistant in my work."

"What?" I gasped, jumping up.

"I could train you in the ways of being a true Auror...."

I scowled. "There is still dark afoot, isn't there?" I had always thought as much, but I thought I was going insane.

"Is there?" he looked startled as he glanced up at me.

I sat down again, realizing my mistake. He didn't think there was. "Well, I have always thought there was something out there." I looked toward the window so I wouldn't have to see his face. "It doesn't seem right that it was only Voldemort. There were a few very smart and dangerous Death Eaters other then my father. _They_ were completely loyal to him." I bit my lip. I was giving him everything, but I couldn't stop for some reason. "I believe that soon one of them will rise and take Voldemort's place." 

He stared for a long time. "You really think so?" There was a new hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"You don't want a mental assistant, do you?"

He froze. "No, I believe you. But if you can foresee such things, you must be an Auror. A natural one. You may not even need training, only a bit to steady your skill."

I shot him a look of venomous hatred, "So, you still want me to help you?"

"I don't know. Of you wish. It would surly help your career, seeing as you're younger by far then the rest of the grade. How old are you, sixteen?'

I nodded. "Seventeen the twenty-eighth of August."

"Full moon, is it not?"

I smirked. "Yea, pity you can't help me celebrate. I'll have the whole house to myself. Invite all those friends I don't have and throw a great party." 

He looked sad all of a sudden. I stopped. "What?' I snapped.

"You have no friends?"

"Yea, they're just stupid is all." I growled, wishing I would shut up, but I seemed unable to. "You put a spell on me, didn't you?"

"No, it's just that...."

"Werewolves are manipulative right?" I snapped, agitation growing.

"As are vampires. Even part vampires." He said simply. I froze, the horror of the statement sinking in.

"How do you know? Is it obvious???"

"Well, it's not. But when I noticed that over the pest week, you've eaten nothing at all, I knew it wasn't just anorexia. It had to be something more. Perhaps you escaped the school at night and hunted?"

"Look who's talking..." I hissed.

"Your secret is safe with me. Come again." He waved me from the room, a secret smirk etched onto his tired face.

And that was it.

Chapter 7

Lupin closed his door with a sigh, wondering how the pale boy would cope with the fact that someone else knew his secret. He knew he shouldn't have lost his temper like that, heaven knows the kid had enough to deal with, but that was why he seemed connected to him. Neither of them were wholly human, and neither ever would be.

He pulled out his large journal that he tirelessly wrote in and quickly began to scribble down the day's events. Draco had far more power then he could ever imagine from a teenager his age. And it seemed more and more possible he was a descendant of somebody greater. Merlin? Salazar? Even Godric? 

Lupin suddenly jumped up. A heir of Gryffindor? Or a heir of Slytherin? He had Salazar's slyness, and Godric's courage. The two combined would give him the same power he had....

Could that mean that once, long ago, the two were one? One named Malfoy? With trembling hands, Lupin pulled a book from his desk about the history of the four houses.

His finger slid down the index. It had never occurred to him before. It stopped at the word 'Malfoy [bad faith]' page 428.

Draco walked slowly down the hall, deep in thought. He supposed he better watch his actions a bit better; otherwise everyone would know the truth. He decided that at supper in an hour, he would force himself to eat something. Anything.

And stay in the school at night for a few days. He was especially agitated about that. Was Lupin spying on him? Seeing his leave the school every night? 

Passing the window, he glanced out at the already darkening sky. Then he remembered, the night before had been a full moon.

"But how did he know I left every night?" he muttered to himself, kicking at a loose stone in the wall. The mad night in the picture beside him started yelling. "You scurvy cur! Come back and fight like a man!"

"Same to you too!" he shouted, knowing it made no sense. The knight sat down on the ground and began scratching his helmet.

Draco laughed quietly to himself as he turned the corner. That stupid knight, he'd be there till dawn, trying to make sense of a senseless sentence. What a freak...

"Draco!" somebody snapped.

"I'm so sick of people saying that!" Draco burst out without looking up.

"Fine, Mr. Malfoy. What are you doing?" he looked up and saw McGonagall's narrowed eyes glaring down at him.

"O, uh, hi..." he muttered, pushing past her.

"What are you doing?"

"I went to see Lupin."

"O!" she threw her hands up in the air. "That man and his addlebrained ideas! What did you say?" she looked interested under his irritation. 

Draco shrugged and slipped past. She scowled and continued on down the hall, searching for Lupin.

She found him in his office, sitting on his desk, a fevered look in his eyes. He looked very interested in what he was reading and he was talking under his breath. 

"What is it Remus?" she sighed.

He jumped. "Minerva Look at this!" he thrust the book under her nose. She snatched it away, giving him a skeptical look. 

"What am I looking at here?"

"The Malfoys!"

She quickly skimmed the page, then let out a piteous moan. "He's a heir of both Godric and Salazar?"

"All Malfoys are..." he trailed off. McGonagall didn't know about the vampire and she didn't need to. It didn't mention it in the book, luckily. That had slipped his mind. He'd have to look up on that later.

"O my..." McGonagall suddenly fainted. Lupin smirked, then went off to get Pomfrey. He was helpless with healing.

Draco lay on his bed in his clothes, wide-awake and starring at the black ceiling. Against what he wanted, he was looking forward to his next visit with Lupin. If he had to have a job in the world, and Auror seemed the best. The riskiest, and the most intriguing. 

He rolled over onto his stomach and shoved his arms under the pillow. The way he always slept.

At that moment, Lupin slipped into the room. As a teacher, he knew all the passwords. He felt guilty watching the boy again, but he couldn't let him run off again. It was risky, especially at his age. He wondered if he ever knew how to get someone without killing them. It wouldn't be good if he killed a muggle every night. Someone would notice.

After a minute, he closed his eyes and his breathing slowed. It slowed almost to nothing. Lupin tensed up, wondering if he was dying. Had he poisoned himself and nobody knew? 

But it continued for a time, and he decided it was just the way he slept, half dead. He must be exhausted, seeing as he had gotten almost no sleep for a time. Or maybe it was just his blood, urging his to die suddenly.

But that was impossible. Or was it?

Chapter 8~Draco

The next talk with Lupin short. But it was long enough for both of us the way it went. It ended nastily, with both of us hating each other. Not exactly a good thing.

"Hello again." He said kindly the moment I slid into my seat. I ignored him again, but he understood.

"So, have you decided if want to be an Auror yet?" he asked carefully, watching my every move. I think he thinks I'm gonna pull a fast one at him and knock him dead. Wouldn't bet I wouldn't.

I shrugged. "I don't know yet. It's a bit of a disgrace."

"What is?"

"The thought of a Malfoy becoming something so good." I said quickly, telling him what was on my mind. I wanted to stay slightly evil, as my father was. Not because of that, but because I like it.

"There's nothing wrong with that...You know how your family came into being?"

I sighed and nodded. "How could I not know?" I snapped.

"I don't know." He said. "Are you sure?"

He caught me off guard. Again. "No!"

"Well then..." he handed me a large book, open to a page somewhere in the four-hundreds. "Read that, bring it back tomorrow, seeing as school ends in two days."

I nodded dumbly and stood up.

"Strange how your father never told you." He sighed.

"He never told me anything." I snapped, suddenly enraged at him for bringing him up.

"I believe he did. He didn't hate you."

"Yes he did!" I cried. "And I hate him!" With that, I had turned and bolted, leaving Lupin standing there, dumbfounded.

I collapsed onto my bed for what must have been the two hundredth time in the past two months and tried not to scream. I didn't know if I hated my father, he had left me. I knew that, and I hated him for that. But the fact that he did it all for me screws it all up. Except I don't think what he did was worth it. Here I am, the billionth Malfoy on earth, and I don't even know my own history. I suppose he would have told me in time, but that time didn't come. Death cut it off like a class's time cuts off information necessary to do the homework. Death cut off necessary information for life.

I shuddered, a habit I have developed, and flipped the book open.

_The Malfoys_

Traditional Malfoy family: Every Malfoy family has a son, reason unknown. Perhaps it is old magic to carry on the family line. Silver-blonde hair, gray to black eyes, pale skin, slenderness, and occasional pointy faces are characteristics. The wife depends greatly on the man.

The Malfoy family is perhaps the oddest wizarding family of all time. It all began a long time ago, a very long time ago. In the age when Hogwarts did not yet exist and Merlin lived. As did King Authur. The Gryffindor and Slytherin names were still around. And somehow, the two met. A young girl by the name of Katrina Gryffindor and a young man by the name of Silicite Slytherin. 

Later, their son, Vladimian, was attacked by a vampire in the woods near his home [the fen]. His great power prevented him from turning entirely, yet he remained ninety percent vampiric.

This changed him entirely. He went strange, and changed his name to Malfoy [Bad Faith]..............

It went on, but I didn't finish. So, Voldemort was right. I was another heir of Slytherin, as well as another heir of Gryffindor. I was a mix. I belonged nowhere. I was neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin, neither human nor vampire. I was only another Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, another soul ripped apart by rage and grief.

Chapter 9

The silence in the hallways was intense. Hermione strode down them with an air of nervousness. It was far too quiet, especially for the ten minutes before the last potions class of the year. The last potions class for the rest of her life. Then she'd be free of Snape forever. She would be glad, but she wished Harry were there. If he was, she just might bend her rules a bit and drive the greasy-haired teacher mad. But that was something to do with friends, and Ron had fallen into what seemed like a permanent state of depression. She was an optimist to some extent, but she had to be.

She slid into the class just as it was starting. Snape looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it.

Everyone turned to stare at her as she entered. She supposed it was a bit odd for the once top student to be late for anything, even the worst class. Everyone but Draco, who was half lying in his seat with his feet on his desk and his head hanging over the back of his chair. His eyes were closed and it seemed that he wasn't breathing. 

O great... she thought. I'll have to wake him up and move him if I want to get to my seat. She walked up defiantly and halted right before him.

"Go away..." he mumbled without opening his eyes.

She wondered for a second how he knew anyone was there, but shrugged it off. She decided that while she was at it making a fool of herself, she might as well try to cheer up Ron and embarrass Draco as well. "I have to get to my seat. Now would you be so kind as to move?' she said very loudly. She stole a glance at Ron, who was silently laughing into his Potions book. "Good..." she whispered. "At least I did something right..."

"If only I could do the same..." Draco muttered, his eyes still closed.

"I wasn't talking to you!" she cried shrilly, startled.

"Who does anyway?"He said quietly at barely more then a whisper. Then he opened one eye and glared at her upside down.

She stepped back, surprised at the light in his eyes. She had never seen such deep anger covering liquid sadness in one's eyes before. She could almost see the angst below the fiery surface, struggling to escape, but not strong enough. Shuddering, she stumbled back. 

"Is there a problem Ms. Granger?" Snape said silkily, obviously trying to enjoy his last class with her as well.

"No..." she stammered as Draco leaned forward and sat normally in his seat again. He turned and shot a strange look at her, then looked away again.

She shuddered again and pushed past into her own seat, which was two over from him and next to Parvati, who was looking very irritated with the fact that she had to push her chair in to allow Hermione by.

"As you can tell, this is the last Potions class for the rest of your life, unless one of you decides to take up Potion-making as a hobby or even a job..." he hissed. "I don't know how many of you dunderheads have the intelligence to do so, but that's not the point. The point is that I have one more potion yet to teach you. I am not normally allowed to teach you this, but seeing as Dumbledore is gone and it is vital in life, I am going to teach you now." He suddenly slammed his book against his desk. "Neville! Pass out these sheets!" he thrust a pile of papers into Neville's hands and strode to the back of the room, where he stood waiting.

Neville sighed and started passing them out.

Draco, whose knees were now on the desk, gave the paper a skeptical look and raised one eyebrow. His arms were crossed and he made no move to grab it.

"The Ultimate Potion" was the whole name, a rather dull one. Seeing as he knew how to make it already, it was also going to be a dull class.

It was the potion Voldemort favored as well as many Aurors. It forced one to tell the truth, then killed them within twenty-four hours. And the best thing was that nobody could trace the murderer. It was, in reality, the ultimate potion. But Lucius had taught Draco when he was very young and there was no need for learning it again.

For when would he even use it? When would he ever be an Auror? Probably never.

About an hour and a half later, Snape slammed his book against his desk again and shouted that class was dismissed. "I doubt any of you will remember a single potion within a year, but I advise you to do so...." he grinned wickedly and slipped off.

The hallway was full of cheering Gryffindors, but Draco didn't notice. He shoved his way through them, knocking down a few as he went. 

At that moment, Hermione stalked up. "Well, if it isn't Mr. I-Did- Nothing himself!" she snapped.

"What?" Draco sighed, pivoting to the side so he was facing her.

"You! You act so modest, like you did nothing! When the rest of the world is rejoicing the death of Voldemort!"

"Harry was the one who really did it. I just finished him off." Draco sighed leaning back against the wall. His face was a lot paler then usual and the area beneath his eyes was nearly transparent with lack of sleep.

"So? That's just it, you finished him!"

"I avenged my father, that's it. I don't see why you're not all upset about Harry being dead."

"I am upset, but I know that many in the world are glad, so I try to be!" she cried. "Why can't you? You killed the greatest wizard in the world, and now you're back to moping around like nothing happened!"

"I told you! I didn't do anything! He was already half dead, my god! Everyone thinks I'm a hero, but I'm not! I'm a loser, a failure. Harry was the real hero."

Chapter 10~Draco

""It's not like you to give credit to others! What's wrong?" she groaned, a slight bit of concern now on her face. I scowled, not wanting sympathy, even though I knew I was going the wrong way about that. 

"Nothing!" I shouted just as she reached for my arm. I pulled away but she didn't care.

"Draco..." she sighed. "You did all you could do to avenge your father. It wasn't your fault he was almost killed by Harry first...."

"It's not like you to suck up to me either!" I hissed. She was getting at my weakness. Sympathy.

"But it wasn't your fault. You did everything possible."

"It wasn't enough..." 

"For what?"

I plunged onward without thinking. "He's not back. "

She stood there, stunned.

"He left me!" I suddenly growled.

"He saved you." They _always_ take his side.

"Just you wait!" I spat, "In a few weeks, you'll hate Harry. They love you, then leave you!"

"You've got it all wrong!" she cried.

"I do not!" I shouted. "They go and die before you get the chance to know them. And they always die stupidly!"

"Saving people's lives is not stupid!"

"It is if it was my life saved. What am I going to do with it???" I shouted without thinking about how suicidal that sounded. She caught on right away.

"Are you going to kill yourself?"

"No. Why bother?" I hissed. "Maybe I'll _save somebody's life_..." With that, I turned on my heel and stalked off to the Slytherin room, my new refuge.

I only stayed there for a few minutes. It was hot in there, and I was in no mood to be overheated. So I went out onto the grounds, carrying my knife. People had gotten used to seeing me with it and didn't bother to yell anymore. Or maybe they were just afraid to yell at me while I was armed and dangerous.

It was just as hot outside, but there was a slight breeze, stirring around the muggy air further. I didn't care though, as long as I was alone. Tomorrow was my last day at Hogwarts unless I bowed down to Lupin. To be honest, I don't know what to do anymore.

I am angry at my father for leaving me and I would do anything to get back at him. But what? I could become an Auror and be a good Malfoy. That would make him mad. But on the other hand, he did end up not so evil. So becoming an Auror might be good. 

I kicked a rock in front of me with a sudden rush of fury. Why did all this stuff always happen to me? Hermione was out to get me, as was Lupin. Both my parents were dead, and I'm trapped between good and evil.

Why can't I be left alone?

Chapter 11

Draco quickly discovered upon re-entering the school that being left alone was impossible. For right within the door stood Cho, positively beaming. He sighed and tried to slip past her.

"Nuh uh uh..." she grinned, catching his arm. He groaned inwardly and turned toward her. 

"You get a haircut?" he said, startled. Her hair was very jagged and hung down just past her chin. Parts of it were pulled back in odd styles. It was strange looking, but it looked good on her. It also had bright blue highlights.

"Show a bit of school spirit, eh?" she grinned. "Although we didn't win the house cup nor the Quidditch cup."

Draco shrugged. It had been Slytherin that won the House Cup. It had happened right before his father's death, so he was not sidetracked. But Harry had been. He was busy worrying about when Voldemort would appear, if at all. It was also raining badly, and he had only caught the Snitch because he was small and able to slide in between Blaise and Ron, who were basically trying to kill each other over which club was whose.

It had been a rather pathetic game. Draco had taken the victory in a whirl of hyperactive excitement. The last time he had been in a good mood was then. The party afterward stank, with the whole house trying to get him drunk.

They had failed when they realized he was allergic to all alcohol.

"Does it look all right?" Cho demanded when she realized Draco was staring out the window.

"Yes..." he said without turning. "What do you want?"

"Well...you know how I plan to go professional with Quidditch?" she grinned.

"No, but continue."

"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me. I mean, you are one of the best seekers this school has ever seen, other then Harry, of course." She ducked her head and starred at the floor.

"Did Lupin put you up to this?' he demanded suddenly. 

"Why would he? He wants you for a job."

"Exactly, maybe he's just trying to screw me over. Confuse me."

"He wouldn't do that." Cho said quickly, coming in defense of the favorite teacher.

He raised one eyebrow and gave his infamous quizzical look. 

"Well, tell me what you think later, OK?" she pounded him on the back and quickly fled off to her next class.

Draco groaned and slumped onto the floor. He did not want to go professional with Quidditch. Actually, he wanted to burn his broomstick, a custom made 'DragonLance2500' that his father had spent thousands on only the year before. It was beautiful, deep green with red brushes and silver lettering. His name was engraved in it, another five hundred galleons. A very expensive broom. But one bought by his father, who he was determined to eliminate from his miserable life.

Lupin, who had heard the whole conversation, sighed heavily and went back to his office. He sat there for a long time, sipping his coffee. A muggle food, but good nonetheless. Tomorrow was the final ceremony, and the other teachers had been hoping Lupin would be able to get Draco to say something. It was a hopeless matter though. He knew the boy would say nothing if he didn't want to. He was the most stubborn temperamental person he had ever met. Other then Lucius, that was.

He glanced down at his left thumb, which had a narrow scar. As did his right. The left was from Lucius, the right from James. The left one was deeper and older. Lucius cut viciously with a knife. James had been almost afraid to.

Lupin was a 'blood brother' to the both of them, although the other never knew. He had done it with Lucius back in his third year, and James in his fourth. Now all three of them had werewolf blood and them. And vampire blood. And all three had Malfoy blood as well. Meaning Harry did too. A rather unnerving thought. He was glad that Harry never knew. And that Draco never knew, for that matter.

Actually, no one knew but him. Nobody even really knew he was such good friends with Lucius except himself. He had lied to McGonagall about just thinking he was cool. 

He sighed again and stood up. He supposed that since Draco would be gone within forty-eight hours, he could use another 'meeting'. And hopefully chide him into being an Auror.

Chapter 12

"Hey, Malfoy!" Draco sighed and turned around. He hated these hallways, everyone found him. With less then thirty hours of school left, there were basically no classes.

He growled. "That stupid wolf. He's out to get me, isn't he?" He didn't expect an answer, not from Ron anyway, but he got one.

"I dunno. Seems odd, doesn't it?"

Draco faked a smirk at him and swept down the corridor, wondering who had gotten Ron to be nice to him. Certainly not Lupin himself?

This time, he didn't knock. He just flung the door open and slid into the seat. 

"You know about this final ceremony, correct?" Lupin said, fingering a stature from his desk as if he were afraid to look at him.

"How could I not know?" Draco snapped.

He took a deep breath. Draco winced, knowing what would come next. A plead. How he hated it when he was right sometimes.

"Well," he began. "All the teachers are hoping you'd say your bit about defeating the dark lord."

"Let Harry."

He jerked his head up and glared at me, a mixture of shock, anger, and sadness on his face. "He can't talk."

"Exactly..." Draco stood up. "Is that all?"

He shook his head. The boy sighed and sat down again.

"I knew your father." He winced again. "He was one of my very good friends, not that anyone knew. Not James. Not Sirius. No one. It was kind of a joke we had. He found out right away I was a werewolf. He was a smart boy. But he thought it cool, and I thought him cool because of his distinct disregard for rules. He promised he'd tell no one about me if I never told anyone some of the stuff he's done at school."

"Like?" Draco said, immediately wishing he hadn't. He was showing interest.

"Heh, like the time he tied Mrs. Norris' tail in a knot, and the time he switched the paintings to the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff rooms. And a lot of other things..."

Draco scowled, to show his lack of interest. There was more he was not telling him. And he knew that. "You still don't know what it's like. So just leave me alone."

"I do."

"What?" he snapped, his rage evident.

"You lost your father. I lost Dumbledore. He was like a father to me, trusting me when no one else in the world would." Lupin shrugged, wondering if Draco would let anyone be kind to him.

"Well," he said. "I should be going..." he stood up again.

He shrugged and turned away. Draco couldn't help but notice he was smiling. He shook his head as he headed for the door.

"You know, you're a lot like you're father..." Lupin said carelessly without thinking. He saw Draco freeze.

"What?' he hissed without turning. "You lie!"

"No." Lupin pressed on, unable to stop now. He was suddenly angry with this boy who was so ungrateful.

"I hate him." Draco turned slowly and took a step forward threateningly. Lupin slid his chair back. He had heard that Draco had a major temper problem and he knew he had a knife. Those don't mix.

"It's true..." he sighed.

"BUT I HATE HIM!!"

"No..." I repeated. He stopped, his face covered in a mask of fury. But something else was there, fear? I wondered how he could yell so long and loud and not be out of breath in the least.

"Damn you..." he hissed quietly, although his words seemed to echo, bouncing off the walls and embedding themselves elsewhere. In my mind.

Then he suddenly bolted. Within a second, Draco was gone and Lupin was alone.

After a minute, Lupin stood up slowly and slid his door open, wondering if Draco was around the corner. But he wasn't. The hall was empty. "Boy, he's fast..." he said to no one in particular. Not that anyone was around. Everyone was off partying.

Lupin headed off, deciding to find him. He wondered just how badly he had hurt him. It was obviously badly.

But he didn't have to look far. For off to the right of the hall, Draco stood, his back to Lupin. His books were a mess at his feet and he was furiously scribbling something. Lupin was too far away to make out what it said. He wondered if he really wanted to know. Something told him he didn't.

After a minute, Draco looked at the paper and laughed quietly to himself. Then he began to fold it just as fast. His long fingers were a blur across it and within seconds it was a strange shape. Once again, Lupin could not make it out.

Draco whipped out his wand and pointed it at the crumpled ball on his palm. He muttered the spell and it vanished.

He smiled darkly and slipped down the hall.

Lupin turned away, shuddering. He was curious as to what he was writing, but he was sure he didn't want to know. That laugh had been truly malicious.

But it didn't seem like he had much of a choice.

It was sitting on his desk.

Chapter 13~Draco

For what seemed like the billionth time this week, I collapsed into my bed and lay there. I hated Lupin as well as Lucius. He didn't deserve to be called Father anymore.

Nobody did.

I was the only Malfoy in the world.

And something told me I always would be.

After a minute, I sat up and glanced around. It was growing dark outside. In twenty-four hours, I would be saying my speech. I didn't want to at first. But now I had written it. Made two copies. One for Lupin. And one for me.

A speech written in five minutes. But even if he didn't want me to say it, I still would. I had to get it out of my system and tell the whole school how much I hated them all. And how I was not the real hero.

I was only Draco. Avenging his father. But I had failed. And now I was just a name. 

The Malfoy name.

The name that had always stricken terror into people's hearts, second only to Voldemort and Slytherin, depending on the time period. Now who was I? A hero. What a disgrace. What would Father, excuse me, _Lucius_, say?

I flopped back down onto my bed, wishing night would come. I wanted to fall asleep. Bloody hell...I thought dimly. What does it matter when I fall asleep?

_I dreamed I was back in the graveyard._

Beneath my feet were hundreds of dead people. Dead. That means they will never walk again. Never breathe again. Never eat again. Never fall asleep again. Never see the sun again. Never live again.

Death was nothingness. 

I found myself walking up to my father's grave. It was at the foot of a tree. A Weeping Willow, half-dead. It's weeping for him. It's weeping all those tears I refuse to let fall.

I looked down at the gravestone. I realized with a shock that beneath my feet was his grave. His body. His skeleton. Where was his soul? I looked up at the sky, shuddering. 

I couldn't help but think about bones. I turned a full circle, surveying the large graveyard. I had never bothered with it before. It had never occurred to me that someday, I would be here. My mother was not here, having her be dead only a few days. But someday, I would be here.

_There was no getting past that. These bones beneath me will stay forever. They will stay dead forever. _

And soon, there would be a new stone. Named Draco Malfoy. My name would be given to a stone. And I would never get it back, because people would never let it go.

People would be saying my name forever. Just because I finished Voldemort off. Someday, Harry Potter would be forgotten and Draco Malfoy would take his place. My name would be passed on and on. I would never get it. I could never rest in peace.

For what I had done was lasting.

As was death.

I suddenly jumped up and bolted, knowing I could run forever and these bones would always be there. Knowing that when I joined them, they would always be there.

There was no escaping death.

Death was forever.

I jerked myself awake. Forced myself to wake up, knowing that if I slept any longer, I would keep running. I would run until I grew old, but I would never get anywhere. I would remain over my father's grave. And then, I would die there.

Another pile of bones.

Another stone.

Another Malfoy.

That is all there is left for me.

Chapter 14

The next day, all the seventh years were in an uproar. Nobody noticed how dark eyed Draco looked. How scared and sad he looked.

Nobody cared. He thought bitterly. There were no classes at all, but he preferred to slink around the school. Twenty-four hours until he was gone. Twenty-four hours until he had to decide whether he would work with Lupin or not, that was it. He had broken down into a nervous wreck, but no one noticed. He was alone. As he had always suspected.

The day passed with a horrifying speed. 

Draco hated every second of it. 

Chapter 15~Lupin

It was time for the ceremony. I still had Draco's letter clenched in my fist. Something had told me not to open it, and I hadn't. I figured if it were really important, he'd come and tell me. I had the feeling it was just a rage letter, basically him going insane over the fact that I had 'insulted' him.

The Great hall was full, as usual. But this time there was a tense quiet atmosphere, probably due to all the deaths that had occurred over the past few months. I felt bad. Everyone at the school, other then teachers, were between ten and eighteen, and they had already faced the death of a great hero, a great enemy, and a great headmaster. All the Slytherins and perhaps a few Ravenclaws were unaware of true evil and were probably upset about all three. I knew that a few kids were mad because they didn't get a hand at killing Voldemort. And all were at the losses of Harry and Dumbledore.

But there is nothing to be done.

After a minute, McGonagall stepped forward and waved for silence. I tensed up, knowing she was about to launch into a big long depressing speech. I wondered if she was any good at making people cry. I was personally hoping she wasn't, because I figured that most of these kids wouldn't be able to handle it. 

I had failed in getting Draco to say a thing, as far as I could tell. Unless...I glanced down at the paper he had given me. "I'll wait..." I mumbled, glancing up again and leaning against one of the stone pillars.

McGonagall waved for silence again, impatience evident on her thin face. After a minute or two, everyone shut up and sat down. I noted the fact that everyone was at the wrong ones. It seemed that everyone was sitting with their friends, despite the assigned house tables, to comfort them. After a quick survey, I decided that the worse off were Cho, Hermione, and Ron. Draco actually didn't look that bad. He had this disgustingly malevolent look on his face. Not quite smiling, but you could see the shadow of a smirk. I shuddered; wondering what he was up to this time.

"Once again," McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. "We are assembled here to discuss moving on in life."

I suppose that was a joke, not very funny though.

"As we look amongst ourselves, we realize that several of us are missing. First of all, we must point out the oldest absence. Cedric Diggory. As you know, Cedric was killed by Voldemort several years back. He was a brave and kind soul, a Hufflepuff at heart. Rarely have I seen such spirit and joy of life in one. It is a true pity that he is unable to enjoy it any longer."

I relaxed; realizing that McGonagall did not have the ability to depress people in the least. Yes, it was sad that these people, were now gone, but she couldn't make one truly cry about it, other then memories.

"Yet another one missing from us this day is the brave soul, Harry Potter. _Never_ have I seen such vengeance, anger, and bravery in one as young as he. He devoted his whole life to defeating Voldemort in revenge of his parents. Not only did he fight for himself, but for us all. Harry Potter..." she paused. "Was truly a heir of Gryffindor. For even Godric himself did not display such heart. 

"But we must always look on the bright side, even if it may be small. For we must remember, Harry died doing what he knew was right. As far as I know, he did not fear death when it came to him. Nor did he welcome it. But he knew that what he had done was right, and at the cost of his life he had seriously put down the 'Lord' Voldemort.

"Alas, if it were not for Harry, Voldemort would not have been killed. Or he might have been, seeing as there are several brave warriors amongst us today." Her gaze flickered to Draco and back again. I watched Draco, wondering how he would react to this, but he seemed not to notice.

"But if he was defeated in the end, who knows? He may have taken down the lives of many before this time."

"Who cares if it was Malfoy?" I heard Ron whisper. I was immensely tempted to go over and speak to him. But I didn't. I knew how hard it was to lose a friend. I had lost lily and James. I just wished he wouldn't take it all out on Draco. He acted as if Draco had nothing in the world to be upset about and seemed to think he was only moping because he didn't get to fight Voldemort long.

"And, moving on..." McGonagall started.

"We're moving far too fast if you ask me..." Snape muttered.

"Well, don't you think they've dealt with enough depression as it is? I'm trying to cut this short!" McGonagall hissed loudly. Then she shot a nasty look at him and continued. 

"As you know, I should not be saying all this. The job of giving speeches is for Headmaster Dumbledore. And as you know, he is headmaster no more." She bowed her head. "Dumbledore has left us. And unbeknownst to us, the great evil known as Voldemort stole his body and pretended to be him for a time. Who knows how long?" It was very obvious how upset she was at herself for not noticing sooner that he was acting oddly. 

At that moment, Draco jumped up. An ugly look of determination had crossed his face. What the heck is he doing? I thought. McGonagall looked like she could kill him for interrupting her. She glared at me. I shrugged helplessly. It was my guess as good as hers as to what he was doing.

Draco turned and smirked at me, as if he knew he was causing me trouble and proud of it. I pretended I didn't see him, suddenly angry. How could I have ever felt pity for that brat? He hated his father for saving his life, he hated me for being nice to him and offering him the job that could change his life, he hated everyone, as far as I could tell, including himself.

Maybe that was the reason I was so kind. 

I knew that he hated everything. And those who hate everything always need someone more then anything.

Chapter 16~Hermione

The second Draco stood up the room had fallen silent. Before, it had been full of people crying; now everyone was staring at him. I wiped the tears brimming on my eyes and glanced over at McGonagall, who was silently backing off. I guess she knew he wanted to speak. Something told me he wanted to. 

I was right. After a minute of standing there, he stepped forward and paused. He was fingering his dagger at his side, but he didn't unsheathe it. I was glad. I was afraid he had a curse and was going to kill us all.

He suddenly lunged for the podium, and managed to regain his posture before many noticed, I'm not actually sure he did trip and make a grab for it. Maybe the tears in my eyes were causing my vision to blur.

"Listen up you idiots..." he grinned. Everyone was quiet to begin with, but I think he liked the power. I barely noticed how Lupin pushed his way up to me.

"Now..." Draco growled, his voice was quiet but captivating. "When you look up at me, I'm sure you think of one word." He paused. I had to admit he had a very good voice and was a good speaker. "Hero." He said it with such finality I shuddered.

"Alas," he continued. "The true hero is dead. Harry was the true hero. I was not. I was merely the one who stole his glory. As a matter of fact, I do not want his glory. He can have it for all I care. I want none of you to consider me a hero. Not a one." He gave Pansy a furious look here and she shrank back.

"Harry died back there for you, all of you. Yea, you're all upset that he's gone now, but how many of you give him the glory?"

Ron shot his hand up. He was the only one.

"See?" Draco snarled, his eyes glassy. "Why do you not consider him the hero? Why me over him? Was it because I delivered the final blow? Or was it because he died and I did not?

"Whatever the reason, it's a stupid one. The true heroes always die."

"As did Lucius..." Lupin whispered, his hand clenched tightly over a slip of paper. I dimly nodded.

"Dumbledore is another example. We do not know for sure how or when he died, but we can assume he died heroically. For us all. For Harry the most, I suppose. True pity he did not succeed." 

I sighed; wishing his teenage personality would not interrupt so much.

"Nonetheless, Harry did, in a sense, succeed. For if he had not fought Voldemort to the death, Voldemort would not have been distracted and he would have killed all of us up there. Hermione, Ron, Cho and I. Then he would have come down here, and killed every last one of you.

"Some people achieve great things in their life. Some, like Harry, are only recognized after death. I did neither.

"I know many of you may not be able to make sense of this speech. And I pity those who do not." He said this while glaring at the Hufflepuffs, who he obviously thought were stupid. Then he continued as if he had said nothing of the sort.

"Voldemort has killed many of our close ones. And the legacy of young Harry Potter has touched many of our hearts. And I know that many have a new name to add to the list. Draco Malfoy, the boy who fought bravely to avenge his father and friend. Well, I have something to tell you. I. Was. Not. Potter's. Friend."

A murmur rustled through the crowd here.

"I was his friend in the end, the last few minutes of his life, I befriended him. I am almost glad I had not done it sooner, otherwise I would be by far more depressed then you all. Allowing freeway for ones with dead parents, siblings, and friends. For due to Voldemort, I have lost both my parents. One only a few days ago, the other a few months ago. 

"I say. Damn that bloody 'Lord' Voldemort..." A few kids laughed.

"One more thing..." he sighed. "I am glad that Voldemort does not have a son. Not because I fear for the society, but because I would fear for him. And I would be driven to my death, knowing I caused a soul as much pain as Voldemort caused me."

Lupin gasped out loud and ripped the paper open in his hand. I glanced over and read it from his trembling hands. The whole speech was written there. With one additional word. 'Death.'

Then I realized something else. The whole thing was written in blood.

"And no one can help me." Draco continued. "Not. Even. You." Then he leapt from the stage and bolted.

Chapter 17~Draco

Once past the Whomping Willow in the grounds, I doubled over, wheezing. I supposed that running that far top speed after yelling a whole speech was not the brightest of ideas. After catching my breath, I straightened up, wondering whether or not anyone had understood what I had been talking about. I seriously doubted it. But I didn't care. It felt good to say it. Now I had to get home. My father's grave has been driving me mad ever since that dream. It's been playing over and over in my mind for eternity.

I turned toward Hagrid's hut. Leaning against one of the walls was a small canoe. A bit of magic could get me across the lake and into the world where I could apparate. Then I could be gone from this wretched place. I didn't even need to come back and get my things. I had two of everything except the broomstick, and I did not care for that anymore.

I had my wand and my dagger. That was all. And it was all I really wanted.

Not ten minutes later, I slid out into the placid lake, painted black with the incoming night.

The first place I ran to was the graveyard. I whipped out my knife and licked the blade. I leaned over my father's grave, trying not to think.

Seconds later, four words were crossed out. 

Forever.

You are not forgotten.

You know what?

I am going to forget you.

My house was silent, big surprise there. Empty but for a few House Elves, probably slacking off since they had the house to themselves. With no real intention in my mind, I wandered up to my father's room. I had almost never been in here, much less explored it. It seemed like intruding, but who was to stop me. I had to know what was so special about me. What had caused him to throw his life down for me.

I tackled his desk first. I was startled to find a stack of drawings inside. He had always joked around about how only stupid people draw, seeing as it was my favorite past time. I suppose that is true on occasion, you always hear about kids who pass school for art ability alone in the muggle world. They control things so stupidly there. But there are plenty of intelligent artists.

I have just discovered that Father was one of them

I froze; realizing my mind had sunk back down into the pit. I was calling him 'Father' again.

I growled and flipped through the pile. Most were charcoal. Probably so he could cover the walls when he got mad and it would not be noticeable. The first few were just scribbles, most likely of rage. I often did that. If you looked real close, you could sometimes make out images.

But the fourth one down stopped me.

_It was a picture of me._

The papers slipped to the floor as I clutched this one. I trembled, with excitement or fear I couldn't tell. Or something else. Love?

I was perhaps eight. I was sitting on the back of one of those great gargoyles that tower over our house. It all came back to me in a blur. I could remember myself often climbing up there and constantly getting in trouble. I remember my mother saying I was fine. I remember my father raising all hell to get me down, saying that it was too high, twenty feet, for someone my age and always clambered up, yanking me down.

He used to scare me. I always thought he hated me, taking me away from my beloved spot. Until now, I had always thought he was just being a spiteful jerk. Now I know that he was just concerned.

Suddenly, a drop of water hit the picture, dead center. I bit back a scream as I jerked back, wondering if the ceiling was leaking. 

But it was not; it was my own tear. I furiously wiped my eyes, wishing I wasn't so emotional. Then this picture would still be intact. 

Now it was ruined.

All because of me.

As my father was dead.

All because of me.

Now his memories were dying.

I collapsed onto his bed and sobbed into his pillow for a long time. I sucked in the scent of his cologne, knowing that he would never wear it again. That was my fault. 

Sniffing, I sat up, realizing just how young I was acting. "But I'm only sixteen." I said to no one. "I shouldn't have to deal with this." Already, I could feel the rage for my father building up again. 

I stood up, clenching my fists until they bled. I walked slowly over to his desk again and ripped open another draw. I wondered why he didn't lock his things. Maybe he was suspecting he would die and leave everything to me.

"I don't want any of it..." I hissed, almost wishing he were there to hear me although I knew I was wrong. I _did_ want it. 

I _did_ want to finally understand this man I called father.

Chapter 18~Draco

The journal was the next thing that jumped out at me. I glanced into the drawer and my first impression was that it was bottomless. There were hundreds upon hundreds. He must be one of those people who write one every three weeks, who write more thoughts then anything else.

I flipped it open, surprised at myself. There was no date; I wondered how he knew which was which. Maybe he just knew, I mean, he wrote them. I could tell from the scrawl that he was perhaps my age when he wrote it. It even looked a bit like my handwriting. Maybe Lupin was right. Maybe I was another Lucius. A replica.

Despite myself, I was drawn in.

I hate that man some call my father. Today, he lost it and killed my dragon. Then he turned on me. I bolted though, into the woods just beyond the graveyard. He never goes there, too afraid of all those he killed, I suppose.

I sat up in a tree for a long time, killing each leaf one by one. Poor Tree. At least it could grow back.

The scars I have, physically and emotionally, will never heal. 

I promise that if I live to have a son of my own, I will never beat him. I will never hate him. I can not. Not after what I've been through. I will never let my son know of the pain I have had. Never.

It's my birthday, I will be seventeen. 'Father' doesn't care. I don't think he even remembers. I mean, when was the last time I had ever gotten a present or money from him? It was always my friends who gave me gifts.

Not that I care. I just hate him. People say they'd understand if I hated my own son for I was hated. But how is that possible? How can I hate after my childhood? I suppose that's how most learn life. I, on the other hand, am different. I will never let one know of the hurt I have inside of me. If they do know, it will be because I tell them, not because I show them.

I will always love.

No matter how well I hide it.

~ Lucius

I will never be safe

I will never be sane

I will always be weird inside

I will always be lame

Once again, it fell to the floor. This time, I didn't try to stop the tears that fell from my eyes. How could it be possible? How could he have gone this long without telling me? I never knew he was beaten as a child. I never knew.

And now I have beaten him as an adult. Emotionally, I gave him more scars then he could ever heal.

And he died for me.

He knew I hated him, yet he still died for me.

He loved me.

And I never knew.

"You will not be forgotten."

Forgotten

The words echoed in my mind as I sat there at the edge of the black bed, my face in my hands, streaked with tears. How could I have done that? 

Everyone was right. He did care about me.

I had no reason to hate him. But I did.

I do not anymore. But I once did.

And that is enough.

Chapter 19

Lupin skidded to a halt in front of the massive black building. He shuddered, wondering how anyone could live in it. It was dark, very dark, no surprise as to why he was always so angry. Ugly gargoyles covered the seemingly bloodstained stone sidings along with bars and chains. If houses symbolized feelings, which he believes they do, this one was pure hatred. 

Trying to look on the bright side, which was deeply drowning in shadows, he stepped forward up to the gate. It was high, black, and sharp. Exactly like a castle from a storybook, complete with the nasty gate. It wasn't open, to his surprise. Then Lupin realized Draco had most likely apparated right into his own home, so there was no reason for the gate to be open.

He sighed, wondering how he was going to get it open. Knowing Lucius, he had so many spells on it you couldn't get it open if you were Voldemort himself. Night was growing, and it was cold for a summer night. And, as usual, Lupin had nowhere to go, seeing as he was unable to get in.

Unable to get in. It echoed loudly in his mind. Telling him that Draco had closed himself out of life.

He suddenly kicked at the gate in anger. It swung right open without a creak. He jumped back, his brown eyes wide with surprise. "It was closed, not locked." He finally said, trying to tell himself that no mysterious force had opened it for him. It was beyond impossible to tell in this dreary setting.

He slipped through the narrow opening and began walking up the long path, on alert in case anything unknown leapt out at him. Nothing did, which was a great deal of a surprise.

Lupin suddenly froze. Beyond the castle was an immense graveyard. So large it stretched out to surround three sides of the Draco's home.

"Looks like I might get to see Lucius's grave after all..." he muttered to himself, forgetting entirely about Draco for a moment. He turned slightly and headed off in that direction.

When he reached the outskirts of the deathplain, he gasped in surprise. It stretched far out, perhaps a quarter of a mile. He knew the Malfoy family line was ever so ancient, but how many could there be if there only one child per generation? Then it hit him; the rest of the graves were the dead they had killed. He shuddered again, wondering if he would end up here for bothering Draco at his darkest time. But there was no way past that.

He sighed after a minute, still wanting to see Lucius's grave. "Draco can wait a minute, can't he?" Unable to decide, he stood still for a long time. He knew that that minute could mean life or death, but something was pulling him toward the grave, wherever it might be.

He finally headed off in the direction of the graves right up against the house. He was unsure as to whether these were random, or in some order. Order of age? Order of importance? 

A sudden slight breeze called to his attention a muffled voice. It sounded human, but was it crying or just mumbling? Lupin stopped again, fear striking through him. Was this place haunted? After a moment's hesitation, he slid over to a tree, glancing up at the sky. In a few days time, he would be a werewolf, something very few things could hurt. But now, as a man, who knew what might happen? It was a disturbing thought.

He turned slowly around the massive tree, which was far too immense to not have been prompted by magic.

He suddenly jumped back with a gasp.

It was Draco.

He was kneeling on the ground in front of his father's grave, leaning against the stone heavily. A seemingly fatal gash on his forehead was gushing a deep red blood. Draco seemed oblivious to the pain though, as he glared accusingly at Lupin, his gray eyes narrowed to black slits.

"Am I going to have to kill you too?" he hissed.

After a time, Lupin opened his mouth, "What are you doing?" 

Draco scowled scowled, not wanting to explain a thing to him.

Lupin raised his eyebrow at Draco, trying to be smart, he suppose. Not a good situation to be smart to Draco in. "Well?"

He instinctively reached up and covered the gash with his hand, continuing to scowl.

"Did you do that?" Lupin continued as if Draco was answering everything he asked.

The gray-eyed teenager stared up at him for a long time, the anger on his face suddenly blurred by a flash of fear. Very minor, but fear nonetheless. He finally shook his head, then suddenly lurched forward and leaned his arm against the roots of the tree, shivering violently.

Lupin realized with a shock how much Draco had risked by shaking his head like that and tensed up, wishing he hadn't asked. But, if he hadn't done that himself, who had? A ghost? Lupin shook his head. He had to be lying; there was no other way.

He leaned over and fingered the gravestone under Draco's glaring eyes, deep pits in his sunken white face. Pits full of fire, anger, rage, sorrow, fear, pity, but more then anything, intense agony. Whether that was from the cut or his father's death it was impossible to tell.

Lupin carefully ran his finger over the scarred stone where the four words 'You are not forgotten' were eternally erased. Without thinking, he asked, "Why are these crossed out?" He turned toward Draco, who was sitting up again. 

Draco opened his mouth as if to say something, then suddenly slammed it shut again. His eyes were suddenly overcome with sadness and a tear slipped down. Lupin, taken aback, froze; realizing that Draco had crossed them out.

"You crossed them out, didn't you?"

Silence.

"And now you regret it?"

Draco nodded again, then started shivering again. 

Not a second later, he collapsed. 

Chapter 20~Lupin

I instinctively reached out and caught him before he hit the ground, He was amazingly light for someone his age, but I didn't bother questioning that. He was dying, if not already dead, and this time it was my fault as well as his.

I stood up slowly, shifting my weight to stay balanced. It's a good thing he's small in height as well as weight, for I am not exactly tall or strong. I studied the castle, wondering which was the easiest way in. There probably wasn't one, knowing my luck. 

I glanced down at the gravestone again and realized with a shock that beside it was a knife, one with no blood. I knew it was his knife, and seeing as it was perfectly clean, he could not have done that to himself unless he cleaned it, which I doubted he had.

I smiled weakly and turned toward the nearest door, a massive black stone thing that appeared to be open, but whether it was or not I was unsure of.

It was. I sighed with relief and glanced down at Draco. His eyes were closed as was his mouth, but I noticed that his chest was faintly rising. But I knew I had only an hour or so before it went down and never moved again.

The house was surprisingly easy to navigate. But then again, I used to sneak visits to Lucius over the summers. He's apparate me over because he knew how to do that without getting in trouble. That was a long time ago though. Thirty years? Or more? I didn't bother answering and headed off to the fourth floor, which had not been used at all when Lucius was a kid. The Malfoy line has something about the floors in the house and generations. You could not use the floor the next generation would have a room in. A strange rule, but then again. The Malfoys were strange. Most were very smart, a very few romantic, a fair deal stupid, and all evil.

I stepped into the bedroom of the fourth floor and automatically backed away. The walls were coated in strange pictures, all drawn. Most of dragons, ghosts, and other rare creatures. But some were unmistakably rage ones. I spotted one where a dragon [Draco?] was viciously tearing at some human. I shuddered and turned away, wondering what kind of mind created such things. 

His bed was in the corner, black, green, and silver. Malfoy colors. Slytherin collides with yet more darkness. I placed him on it just lashed out with his boot and whimpered quietly. 

I groaned inwardly, wondering what to do. This was not good at all. And I knew nothing about healing. Well, I did, but only for wounds created by dark arts, and this obviously wasn't. You can just tell what is supernatural and what is normal. Who did know about that? 

Pomfrey? No, she wouldn't come.

Snape? He could help with Potions...

Then it hit me. _Hermione_. She would be perfect. But how much would she want to help Draco? They acted like they hated each other, yet they get sympathetic over each other's problems. Did that mean they liked each other?

I smiled wryly. That was impossible, they just felt bonded by their similarities. I suddenly swore to myself, remembering that thinking about teenage crushes had nothing to do with the present situation.

To my great luck, a jar of blue powder sat right by the fireplace next to his bed. It was hopefully that powder that you could call people with. If it was not, I would probably end up cursed or dead, because I was going to use it. The fact that I had half caused my friend's son to half die right after his own death was a bit too intense for me. I carefully unscrewed it and sniffed it cautiously. Werewolves have an acute sense of smell, and it didn't smell like anything super-awful, so I quickly scooped up a handful before I could regret it. I waited for it to burn right through my hand, but it didn't. 

I whipped out my wand and set the fireplace on fire, a trick Lucius had taught me whenever he felt like burning something, which was often. He did not believe in throwing anything out. It was always 'burn it'. The flames were large, as they always were with this spell. I thrust the powder into the inferno and waited till it turned blue. It took about a minute, but it finally did.

I took a deep breath. "Hermione Granger of Hogwarts."

Chapter 21~Hermione

The fire in the Great Hall flared up in sudden fury. Ron and I jumped back just as it let out a soft hiss and turned blue. A faint image appeared. I stepped back warily and squinted into the flames. 

"Lupin?" Ron asked.

I nodded, even though he just told me what it was. I wouldn't have any otherwise.

The image of Lupin suddenly blurred. "_Her-mi-o-ne Grang-er.._." it whispered before blurring completely.

"That means Lupin is calling me!" I cried shrilly, grabbing Ron's arm.

"Aw, he probably ran after Draco and got lost." Ron scoffed, frowning deeply. He obviously thought it was a prank.

"It must be Lupin. That powder does not take frauds." I said quickly.

"Just be careful, it might very well be Draco...You know? Killed Lupin and is using his body..."

"Ron!" I cried, shocked that he would think that. But it seemed so possible. That last time I heard Draco talk? I was terrified, now I am again. He went insane, it seemed. Who knew what he'd do? I finally shrugged and stepped forward. "What if he means it and is in trouble? Besides, what could Draco possibly want with me?"

Ron made a move to grab my arm and made a horrible face but pulled away. I nodded once to him and stepped into the flame before it faded.

It was cold. Ever so cold, and it was spinning. Almost like using Flu Powder, just a bit lighter. And I didn't have to worry about stepping out. It dropped me after a second or two.

I gasped in shock when I realized where I was. Actually, I was unsure, but I figured that it was the Malfoy Manor, the largest and scariest building ever owned by a wizard. That's what they all say anyway, but that didn't seem true. 

To my relief, Lupin stood a few feet in front of me, alive and well, but looking very desperate.

"What's wrong?' I asked carefully.

"Draco's dying." He said blandly.

"What?" I gasped.

He nodded and waved his arm toward a large bed, mostly green and black with silver thread. I crept forward hesitantly, wondering just how bloody he was going to be.

It was too much. I stumbled back with a stifled shriek and glanced over at Lupin. He, too, looked a bit sick, but I knew it was from worry, not from blood. Unlike me. 

"Is he going to live?" I shuddered. Lupin shrugged helplessly.

"Unless you can do something. I don't know how to heal wounds. If that isn't fixed, he's going to die..."

I groaned, realizing that his life was basically in my hands. Well, I thought, at least I don't hate him anymore. It's kind of hard to feel hatred for him anymore, not after what he did for the world.

"Do you know what to do?" Lupin whispered.

"I think so...I don't know the exact words to the spell, but I know what to do."

"We can't have you just guess, what if you kill him?" Lupin said, a sudden panic alighting into his eyes. "I think I know where the library is...I'll go check..." he bolted from the room, his tattered robes bringing a slight breeze.

After a minute of standing there, I slowly walked over to Draco. His eyes were tightly closed and his breathing was going in spasms. Something told me it was not the gash on his forehead that showed his skull, but something more, something emotionally, that was killing him. Did he still blame himself for his father's death? I wanted to yell at him, tell him that none of it was his fault. But for some reason, I couldn't. My throat was stuck, besides, what were the chances of him hearing me? 

I absentmindedly brushed the hair away from the cut, trying to avoid bloodying myself. I succeeded, and he stirred, moaning and lashing out with his foot. Then he suddenly curled up into a ball and froze, his breath coming in gasps.

"Hurry up Lupin..." I muttered, fingering my wand nervously, hoping I could save him.

Hoping is sometimes the only way to win these things.

Lupin returned with the book at a run. He skidded to a halt beside me. I couldn't help but smirk. A man old enough to be my father running around a massive castle at top speed? A teacher, at that? It just didn't work. I fairly snatched the book from his hands, desperation taking over. I don't know why either. I mean, I'm not exactly his friend, but there's just something about him I can't quite put my finger on.

"It's on page four hundred and fifty six! Four-five-six!" he shouted, shoving the book into my hands.

I opened it to the page, suddenly nervous. I seriously doubted I could do this. Why couldn't he have gotten a professional instead of me, a schoolgirl? I glanced at the page. It looked easy. Quickly, I read the strange script. It was easy, very easy. If only it healed emotional scars as well. That's how he would ultimately die as far as I can tell.

I pointed my wand at him and muttered the words under my breath. 

Then I realized there was no point to the damned thing.

Chapter 22~Draco

Sunlight. Ever so bright, too bright. Far too bright for a vampire. I rolled over onto my stomach and buried my face into the pillow, a sharp pain shooting through my forehead.

"I suppose he'll live now." Someone said off to the side of me.

"Shut up whoever you are..." I mumbled. "Father, Dobby, some dumb house elf, go away..."

"Uh..." a feminine voice this time. "Dobby was set free and..." she trailed off. Then the other voice picked up.

"Your father has passed on."

I didn't say anything or even breathe for a second. This must be the billionth time I've forgotten that he's dead. Dead because of me, as he always would be. And I had just told him to shut up technically.

"How is your, uh, forehead?" the girl asked again.

I lifted my head and immediately dropped down again. "Hermione?" I asked blandly.

She nodded slowly, her bushy hair all frizzy, most likely from stress. I noticed Lupin stood behind her.

"What about my forehead?"

"You cut it open and we fixed it, but it will still hurt for a time..." Hermione said timidly.

"I didn't cut it..." I said quickly. "I fell..." I trailed off, the whole thing coming back to me.

"Fell?" Lupin said loudly, a look of slight amusement on his face. "Where did you fall to split your face open?"

"That gargoyle that's twenty feet above the entranceway to the living room..." I muttered, wishing I had never remembered that gargoyle.

"Why were you up there?" Lupin asked, trying not to laugh.

"At least you didn't try to hurt yourself..." Hermione sighed with relief.

I buried my face again, not wanting to continue. It hurt too much, not because they were laughing, but because it reminded me of my father. 

"Well, how's your head?" Lupin asked finally.

"Fine, go away. I wish to be alone..." I mumbled, meaning every word of it.

"Why?" Hermione blurted out, chewing on a stray strand of hair.

"I want to sulk." I hissed.

They left, but not before I waved them away and sunk deep under the covers. I preferred the dark, seeing as it suited my thoughts perfectly. I suddenly hated Lupin for getting me onto the subject of the gargoyle. Maybe if he hadn't done that, I wouldn't have remembered right away and I would be safe for a time. But no, Remus had to bring it up, didn't he? I regretted my ever going up there. It was stupid anyway. I remembered how every time, he'd pull me down, every single time. I suppose I went a bit insane then, because I climbed up, basically defying everything and wondered if I'd see him again. Now that I think of it, it was idiotic. Nothing can bring him back. Nothing in the whole world.

He's lost to me forever. He's just a memory who will fade with time. Soon he'll be a shadow, then nothing. Or perhaps the times I was especially evil to him would remain, growing ever more vivid. Ever so vivid, it was already happening. 

After a minute, I sat up, glaring in anger at the open window above my bed. I wanted to get up and close it, but I was too dizzy. Hermione, in reality, had not helped me at all. That cut had not hurt that badly. It wasn't all that deep, but the fact that I had crossed out those words on his grave was what had hurt. And she could never fix that. Even if she could heal the stone, I would still remember how I did that, and how I hated him. 

I hated him almost my entire life. There was a year when he first told me about being part vampire, that was the only time. One year, then it ended rather abruptly and I don't even know why. 

Once again, I slid back against the headboard and closed my eyes, trying to block all thoughts out about everything. It was all so evil.

Everything was evil.

Chapter 23

"Why is always so grouchy?" Hermione grumbled outside the door.

"He has a temper problem, you know that." Lupin shrugged. "Besides, I laughed at him, that was bound to mess his over..."

Hermione smirked; realizing Lupin was attempting to use teenage language. "Should we dare go in again?"

"Yea, he's being too quiet. I mean, we've left him alone for three hours now."

"How mush do you want to bet he's gone now? Off on his broomstick?"

"He left it at school." Lupin said shortly. He suddenly whipped the door open again, turning to Hermione and sliding out of the way. "Ladies first..."

"Let me get him by the tirade..."

Draco was asleep, to no real surprise, curled up on his side at the very corner of the bed. His almost white hair sharply contrasted against the black, causing it to appear to glow in the sunlight. 

"I suppose we ought to wake him up. I'm curious as to what happened to make him go so insane." Lupin said slowly, glancing over at Hermione as if it were up to her.

"I guess so..." she shrugged.

"Is he a light sleeper?"

"How the heck should I know?" 

Lupin shrugged this time. "Draco?" he said loudly.

"What?" Draco muttered without opening his eyes. "I told you to leave me alone..."

"Yes, but it is not the best thing to leave one so depressed alone." Lupin said importantly, sounding immensely like Lockhart.

"I was upset." Draco said flatly.

"So I've noticed." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Lupin?" Draco suddenly sat up, his silver eyes flashing. "Did you know my father after I was born?"

Lupin paused, then nodded slowly. "Not very well anymore. But yes."

"Did...was he glad?"

"About what?"

"Me." Draco said, as if there was no chance of it being anything else.

"You know you were born dead, right?"

Hermione gasped when Draco nodded, "Seriously?"

"I was two pounds, fourteen ounces..." Draco hissed.

"Yes, he thought you would die within a year and he was extremely upset about it all. He used to stop by my mother's house, where I lived until ten years ago, and mope around for hours on end. He was never really happy. I mean, he was hyped up about the fact that he had a son, but the fact that he would most likely die in a year or two from some disease was too much to bear for him I think.

"I lost touch with him soon after you turned three. Then I met him again when you were thirteen.

"So you didn't know him when he really got to know who I was?" Draco's face fell.

"No."

Draco didn't answer for a long time. "So you never knew if he cared about me when I was older?"

"You knew he cared." Lupin said quickly. "He wouldn't have died for you otherwise."

"But I was always so mean to him."

"That didn't matter to him."

"You said you didn't know him." Draco pouted.

"A lot can happen in ten years, but I don't think that much could. Most of Lucius was far too sentimental and romantic to change..."

"My father was a romantic?" Draco gasped, horror creeping into his face.

"Not like the lovey-dovey kind." Lupin said quickly, not wanting to disillusion the only image Draco had of his father.

"Just the tragic sort?' Draco asked.

Lupin nodded, surprised he knew what that meant. "A bit like me. There was always something sad about him. Something that would never heal. I never really understood it in him. For me, well, I am a werewolf. But him..."

"He was beaten." Draco said quickly.

"As I suspected." Lupin's face grew more serious. "There you have it."

"What?"

"He didn't hate you. You see, a man always has so much love in him. But when his parents hated him so, he had only his own son to give it to."

"But he acted like he hated me."

"You inherited his spastic nature. He feared for you in everything possible. Forced you into Quidditch so not a soul would make fun of you, wouldn't let you do very much because you might get hurt, never acted like he loved you very often because he was afraid that he would hurt himself, I imagine."

"What's that mean?"

Lupin sighed. "No offense to you or anything, but I think he knew that you disliked him, and he was guilty of it. But he was afraid to do anything about it for the fact that both of you would be hurt."

"So he died saving my life." Draco turned his face away from Lupin and Hermione, not wanting them to see if he cried. He had never known it was that obvious he had hated his father.

"Yes. Not only to save you from a fate worse then death, but to show you the evils of the dark side as well as show you how much he cared about you."

Draco sniffed quietly and buried his face in his hands. "I destroyed his gravestone! I hated him! I always have..."

Lupin said nothing for a time, thinking it over. He was an utter loss for words that could possibly enlighten Draco. At that moment, Hermione cut in with a rather rude yet occupying question.

"Why do you not care about your mother?"

Draco lifted his head, which surprisingly had no tears on it. "She never cared about me at all, or Father, for that matter. The only reason she killed herself I imagine was to put on a good act. She didn't think a thing about me, who would be orphaned."

Hermione winced, wondering how Draco could be so hard while he was so depressed over his father who was now dead three months.

"That's because my father cared about me while I hated everything about him." Draco said quietly, glaring at Hermione.

"Ah, yes, your father always had a knack for mind reading." Lupin cut in.

"Entering the beaten path again, eh?" Draco muttered darkly. "Why must you guys always try to cheer me up?"

Lupin burst out laughing again while Hermione turned red. "You said you wouldn't laugh..." he muttered out the side of her mouth.

"So you're talking about me?' Draco hollered.

"He also had major mood swings." Lupin grinned.

"Go away!" Draco growled, his eyes suddenly dangerous. "I don't want to hear any more about my father and how much we are alike. I'm not like him because I can only hate. Even if it meant hating him and myself for it."

"Well, I suppose if that is how your mind works, it can't be helped very much, can it?" Lupin said slowly.

"It could." Draco said bitterly. "I was far too stupid to recognize it myself until it was too late."

"Lupin..." Hermione said suddenly. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?"

"The sun is setting." Draco said coldly. "It is a full moon tonight."

Lupin paled, then turned toward the door. "I forgot my potion."

"That's not very good, is it?" Hermione asked. "You can't stay here, can you?"

"Not in my house he's not." Draco scowled. "He'll tear it apart. If it's all I have in memory of my father, I want it intact."

Lupin looked as if he understood and nodded. "I must be going then. Perhaps the woods far out to the back?"

"I don't care. Keep from the graveyard." He growled quietly, looking up toward the window again.

"Umm....will you guys be all right? Because I don't think Hermione knows how get back."

"I don't."

"Want me to tell you, it would only take about an hour, because it's a spell."

"An hour? The moon will be out in half that. I can teach her. Get lost." Draco waved his arms at Lupin, who sighed and slunk off through the door.

"Why are you so mean to him?" Hermione sighed after he left.

"He brings back unhappy memories." Draco frowned.

"He can't help that." Hermione pulled out her wand. "Now how do I do this?"

"Go find the book, it's one of those written by m father. Come back when you find it. The library is one floor down, takes up all of it. I'll probably fall asleep. Goodnight." Draco slid back into the shadows, leaving Hermione alone and bewildered by his odd nature.

Chapter 24~Hermione

He's acting shy...I said to myself as I entered the library. That's not good if he's acting shy. I suddenly smiled to myself. I had to be confusing myself. There was no way he could like a muggle-born like me.

Then I noticed the size of the library. It was immense. Every wall was covered in rows and rows. There was strange staircases going all the way up the ceiling instead of ladders to get the high ones. I supposed most were of dark arts, but that meant that at least some of the Malfoys liked to read. And he had said that Lucius wrote some. So that meant he loved to read...

And the spell he mentioned was not evil. So was Lucius ever truly evil? My image of him was suddenly crumbling to dust. As was Draco's. Perhaps we do have some things in common.

Two hours later I remembered what I was meant to be doing. I had entirely forgotten I was supposed to return to Draco. Now he was most certainly asleep. And for some reason the thought of waking him up scared me. I picked up the book with the correct spell in it as well as the other book I had found and hugged them to my chest, trying to decide what would be the best way to wake him up. Or if I should find a place to sleep and wait till morning.

I finally bolted from the library with no obvious plan for a loud noise had interrupted my thoughts. I had turned around in time to see a black blob about two feet tall floating a foot off the floor behind me. It had white slits for eyes and a metallic scent. Unable to tell what it was, I had run, not wanting to mess with something that was unidentifiable. I don't know if scary was quite the word for it. Perhaps it was a ghoul or something.

Draco was, too no surprise, asleep. On his side again, curled up on his right shoulder. It did not look very comfortable. I flicked the lamp on over his head and his eyes flickered, but did not open. I relaxed for a moment and dropped the books on his head. 

He was ever so pale. The skin under his eyes was so dark it was almost transparent. It seemed to me that this was the first time he actually got sleep in months. In the months since his father died, most likely. I suddenly noticed that directly beneath on of his eyes was an eyelash. I notice stupid things. Without, thinking, I reached over and brushed it off. His face was strangely smooth.

He suddenly jerked awake and grabbed my arm with one of his thin hands. "What the hell are you doing?" he mumbled.

"You had an eyelash." I said.

He starred at me for a long time. "O."

Then I blurted it out. "Why is your face so smooth?"

"Why not?" he growled.

"I mean, you're almost seventeen. Most guys by now have some facial hair."

"Vampires just don't."

"Dracula did." I said, wondering what he was talking about.

"You muggles distorted Dracula." He muttered.

Then I realized. "What do you mean by that?" I gasped. "You're a vampire?"

He looked horrified. "Part..." his voice trailed off. He sat up and twisted my arm, forcing me to lean over him. He was very strong. Stronger by far then Harry or even Ron ever was. "Don't you dare tell anyone..." he hissed, his eyes wide with fear. I shuddered, able to imagine him as a vampire, haunting the streets. That explained his exotic eyes and pale complexion.

"I won't..." I whispered, his own fear reflecting mine.

"Good." He suddenly smiled and fell back onto his pillow, folding his arms under the back of his head. "Because if you did I'd have to suck you dry."

I didn't know how much truth was in that statement but I didn't want to push it and find out. I could very well imagine his fangs sinking into my neck and me collapsing into his arms. So I dropped the whole thing, figuring I could ask Lupin later.

"I found this for you..." I shoved the oversized book I had found for him into his lap as I reached out to grab the book I needed myself. "Your father wrote it." I said quickly, noting his eyes. "It's about his life, and it's dedicated to you. I think it was meant for you..."

"You didn't read it, did you?" he asked, looking very confused.

"No, I figured you should."

"Where did you find it?"

"It was on his desk...I think the library was his study as well."

"It was..." He sighed. Then he opened the book, letting me see it as well.

Dear Draco,

I am Lucius, your father. This is my entire life story, right up until my death. For it was my death I predicted the moment you were born and I have prepared for it. I want you to read all of this someday, so that one day you may understand me. Some parts are depressing, some funny, and some just strange, as everyone's life is. One thing you must do being going any farther. Read the last page.

Chapter 25~Draco

I glanced up at Hermione, whose eyes were very wide. "Your father knew he was going to die because of you?" she said faintly.

I nodded slowly.

"Then he really did care about you, don't you see? If he cared about himself more, he would have killed you..." she sighed.

"I knew he cared about me, but I just never cared about him..." I lowered my voice so she wouldn't notice if it cracked.

She didn't answer. I'm not surprised. For I was right.

"I'm going to read the last page, turn away." I said finally, not wanting her to read it.

She nodded and turned her back to me. I flipped to the last page. It was short, not even half. But I read it anyway, and I read it so many times it must have seemed like a hundred pages to Hermione

The Malfoy family line, for hundreds of years, has been known for it's evil powers. A great deal have been dark lords in their time. All but a few were entirely evil, dark, twisted. Many were geniuses, as you and I are. But a true genius is never evil. Therefore, I was stupid. I changed just to be dark, and there was no real reason. Perhaps it was my childhood. Because of this, I struggled to give you a good one. But I knew you did not have one. That is my fault. I was far too overprotective. I apologize, my son.

But I have one more thing I ask of you before I die, please, do not become what I have become. Do not travel the beaten path of evil. Go to the light and do something useful for the world. In order to do this, I want you to forget me. Wipe your mind of everything about me. 

But remember this. I will always love you. Even if you fail. Even if you turn evil. Even if you become the new Dark Lord. I will remember you, my valiant stubborn son. You can break away from the Malfoy legacy.

Break away from the Malfoy Legacy, that is what I wanted to do. But I failed. I am handing the chance down to you, for I know you can accomplish it. For you are by far better then me, kinder, more loving. You may not know that yet, but you will.

Goodbye my son Draco.

~ Lucius 

I read it over and over, until only a few phrases stood out.

_But I knew you did not have one._

How could he say that? Call himself a bad father? A single tear fell onto the book. I wiped it away quickly, not wanting a single letter blurred. But I knew it was true. I had always considered my childhood miserable. If only he hadn't known that. He knew too much. 

_In order to do this, I want you to forget me._

How could I possibly forget him? I know I tried, but I failed. And I am glad I did, for I have decided that I never want to forget him. He said he would always remember me, his valiant stubborn son. So why should I not remember him? My tragic, pain-wracked, loving father? He did so much for me, he taught me hatred, and now he's taught me love. He's taught me the pain of both, and to balance in the center.

_Do not travel the beaten path of evil._

He did not want me to be evil as he was. So did that mean be an Auror? Break away from the Malfoy legacy and become an Auror? Do as Lupin bid me?

"Are you all right?" Hermione said timidly, turning around as I read it for the fourteenth time. 

I nodded, even though tears fell as I did. She leaned over and read the page. I didn't try to stop her. She frowned suddenly and looked up at me, tears glistening in her own eyes. 

"You didn't even know him!" I snapped, in rage that she felt the same I did. She couldn't.

"But I hated him too."

"He didn't _die_ for you." I said darkly.

"He died for us all."

"What?" I hissed.

"If you ever joined the Dark Side, Draco, this world would go corrupt. You are one of the smartest wizards I know, and you have amazing powers, both dark and light. You could kill this planet if you wanted to. Right now." She said sharply.

I froze. She was acting like my father.

Then she ran from the room. I sank back into the shadows beneath the blankets. My father's demand to forget him echoing.

Echoing..... 

Chapter 26~Draco

Lupin walked in the next morning with Hermione. She had obviously told him about the book. For he came right over and asked.

"So, you are not going to be the new dark lord?"

I shook my head slowly. How could I after reading that bitter note?

"You know, by right, you are the new dark lord." He said slowly.

"What?" I gasped.

He nodded. "Have you ever noticed that it is usually other evil wizards who killed the dark lords? They do that to take their place. Half the planet is already waiting for you to take Voldemort's place."

I suddenly leaned over the other side of my bed and threw up everywhere.

Lupin ignored it. "It's up to you."

"Lupin..." I choked out. "I want to be an Auror."

He pulled a dead faint.

"It's what Father would want." I said quietly after he recovered. We were outside, in the graveyard, in front of his grave. The words were still crossed out. "It's what Lucius would want for me."

I noticed a single tear slip down Lupin's face at the mention of Father. He nodded, letting the liquid crystal hit the grass at our feet. "I will train you to be an Auror." He whispered. "For it is what Lucius would want. He wanted to be one."

Epilogue~Draco

"I will always remember you Father..." the wind carried my voice, carried it right to heaven. I figured he would be mad, but I will never know. For he is dead.

And he always will be.

Death is forever.

Memories are things to cling to. Things to cry about. Yet they are also things to cherish and love. They are designed to fade, but if you try, you can keep them forever. 

I know he wants me to be strong, to forget him and move on. But I can not. He wants me to, But I can not, will not, forget him.

I will always betray him.

I am not fit to be his son.

Yet he will always love me. He will look beyond my flaws, as his father did not. He is the father to me his father never was. But I am the son to him he never was. For he always loved, and I always hated.

I do not now.

Now that he is dead.

I regret it all, but I can not change it.

I want to go back to when he was alive.

And tell him just one thing.

That I love him.

But death is forever.

There is no going back.


End file.
